Dear Diary: A Ginny Tale
by HyperActiveOwl
Summary: Ginny Weasley's fourth year was the most tosy-turvey she's ever had. She's keeping this diary to record things in during her summer before fifth year. Watch Ginny's mood swings, a little sister playing matchmaker for her older brother, and a certain gre


**_July 2, _****_10:30 am_**

This feels very, very weird.  You'd think I'd be afraid of having another diary, but I'm not.  Not really.  Well, ok, maybe I'm a little nervous.  Just take deep breaths, Ginny, deep breaths.

OK.  Done with that.  No help at all.  Bill's coming by for dinner tonight.  I'll ask him to check out the diary, make sure there's nothing wrong with it.  (Not at Grimmauld Place, we're at the Burrow for two weeks.  Then back to hell Grimmauld Place.

**_July 4, _****_noon_**

Well, Bill looked everything up for me, and nothing's wrong with the diary.  Thank Merlin.  I don't really know what to write though.  It's odd.  You'd think I'd have ages of pent up experience and anger to write about, but I don't.  I feel sort of mellow.

I miss Harry.

Whoa!  Backtrack, old girl.  Cross out, cross out.  Maybe I should ask Bill to put a locking charm on this thing if I'm going to be exploding in these bursts of… whatever that was a burst of.  Because, I do _not_ like Harry.  See, I can say that very calmly.  I think I'll try to repeat it out loud.

Ron just walked into my room to say that we had to weed the garden and he caught me saying this.  The conversation went a bit like this…

Me: "I do not like Harry, I do not like Harry, I do not-"

Ron: "Ginny!  Mum wants us to weed the garden, especially the honey-bucky patch.  She said the gnomes got at it."

Me: (not having realized Ron was in the room.) "Like Harry, I do not like Harry."

Ron: "WHAT?  I thought you were friends!"

Me: (just now noticing Ron is in the room.) "Hmm?  Oh, hi, Ron.  What is it you wanted?"

Ron: "WHY DON'T YOU LIKE HARRY!?"

Me: (realizing I'm busted.) "Oh.  That.  Well, er, I'm just trying to convince myself I have no romantic feelings whatsoever for Harry."  (I'm thinking Ron would be relieved I don't like his friend.)

Ron: (just has a look of horror on his face.)

Me: "Yes, what's so bad with that?"

Ron: "N-nothing, Ginny.  I'd forgotten that you and Dean Thomas are going out."  (He says that last bit kind of angry, and then leaves.)

Dean Thomas!?  I took a five minute period to recover from my laughing epidemic.  If I had tried to write during those five minutes, I would have had heart failure, and I'd have to be shipped off to St. Mungo's.  Where did he get that idea?  

Whoa, just had a flashback moment.  

On the train ride home, I said I'd "picked" Dean Thomas.  As my boyfriend.  Oh please.  

Just had another laughing fit.  Ron is really hysterical sometimes.  I feel a bit bad for him.  He's got a bunch of strange older brothers who either try to make him eat sweets that turn him into a canary, convince him that the Cannons will never win a World Cup, try to teach him a bunch of fancy secrecy Charms and hexes and stuff for the DA, and he's got a mad little sister.  Poor, poor Ronniekins.  So daft that he doesn't even know I picked Dean Thomas to annoying him.  

I'm trying very hard to resist another laughing fit.

**_July 5, _****_4:34 am_**

Why, you may wonder, am I up at four in the morning?  Writing in my diary no less?  Well, Ron was thrashing about in his sleep, and he fell out of bed.  I have the room directly under him, so I heard the thump.  Then I heard him yell, "NO MORE SPIDERS, HERMIONE!  NO MORE!"

So I'm assuming he's having a nightmare.  I have nightmares sometimes.  Not about spiders.  About Tom, and the diary.  They aren't even real nightmares, just his face leering at me for hours on end.  Or, it seems like hours.  I read once that dreams really don't last very long, only for a few minutes. 

I don't feel much like writing anymore.

**_July 6, _****_8:00 pm_**

Hermione's come today.  I guess it's nice.  But she's always arguing with Ron.  They act like they hate each other.  But any dunce with half a brain can see that she fancies him.  (This means, basically, not Ron.)

And anyone with a brain cell can see that Ron is head over heels for her.  I mean, perfume?  Hello.  And he could have asked me for help, at least.  The stuff he gave Hermione was nasty.  It smelled like the room Sirius gave Buckbeak at Grimmauld Place.

Poor Buckbeak.  And poor Sirius.  I didn't really know him, but he was a whole lot of fun.  I miss him quite a lot.  I hate the damn war.  Nothing's happened yet, but something will, right when we least expect it.

**_9:50 pm_**

Hermione and Ron have disappeared.  Mum is going mad; she thinks that they've been abducted by Death Eaters.  I saw them slip out the back door together, but when I tried to tell Mum, she just started sobbing.  And she refuses to look at the clock.  If she would just _look_, it says Ron is "in a world of bliss."

And, no, I do _not_ want to know what that means.  But I do know it means he isn't with Death Eaters.   

**_12:46 am_******

And, they're back!  They both got severely told off, but Hermione less than Ron.  They looked suspiciously tousled… when Hermione came up to my room, I tried to get a word out of her.  And before I write what I said, just let it be said subtly was never my strong point.  So, as soon as she changed into her pajamas and dressing gown, I launched.  She was about to read, but sorry.  It was no time for sympathy.  "Hermione," I started, "Do you fancy my brother?"

Basically, she looked guilty.  She first turned pale, white as a ghost.  Then she turned a reddish-purple color and started looking at the floor.  She swallowed a few times and tried to answer.  

"Well, we're very close friends, and I do admire him quite a lot.  We help each other out, and we've been thrown together without Harry in _so_ many situations this past year, it was a bit odd being without Harry, but I got to know Ron so well!" Hermione stopped.  

I seriously thought she was going to start panting.  The girl must have an ENORMOUS lung capacity.  "Er… is that a yes?"

Hermione turned that weird purple color again and whispered something.  I didn't hear her, so I asked her to speak up.  So she said, "YES!  I fancy Ron, ok!!"  

Then she threw herself into the spare bed and pulled the covers up past her face.  "Alright, Hermione!" I called.  "G'night then!"

And so my good deed of the day has been done.  Now I just need to find out where they were.  I'll wait until tomorrow.

Oh, bloody hell, I'll just ask now.

Hermione threw a pillow at me.  And she's threatening to get _Hogwarts, a History_ and throw that as well.  I think that translates to, "We were madly snogging and if you don't shut up, I really will throw things at you."

I feel so happy to help her realize her feelings for my brother.  Tomorrow, I'll work on Ron.  Oh, the evilness and the wickedness of a little sister!

I'm sure he subconsciously knows he fancies old 'Mione.  If they were snogging.  But maybe they were just innocently degnoming the Lovegood's house.  Yeah, right.    

I just need to make Ron realize _consciously_ how much he loves Hermione.  And I, Ginny M. Weasley, swear to make Ronald Q. Weasley know his true love!

**_1:35 am_**

Bloody hell.  I've just made a discovery here!  I was just innocently writing in my diary, when I audibly declare my plan.  I said, "And I, Ginny M. Weasley, swear to make Ronald Q. Weasley know his true love!"  And then something started _talking!_  It sounded like Hermione, and I got _very_ scared, because who knows!  It may have been her telling me off for player the matchmaker!  But it wasn't.  It was some kind of diary thing that talks.  I've seen them in Diagon Alley.  You write like you would with a normal diary, but you password-protect it, and once you say the password out loud, it talks.  And the stuff it says is whatever your latest entry was.  Well, Hermione's latest entry was EXACTLY the answer I needed!  They _were_ off together.  No, they did not snog.  But they apparently got close.  And then Ron flipped out.  Poor Hermione.  She sounded so 

upset.  Not to worry, though!  Ginny Weasley, matchmaker, is at your service! 

**_July 7, _****_4:20 pm_**

There was an attack today.  

I can't write.

**_July 8, _****_7:04 am_**

About yesterday.  Death Eaters attacked a family in London with a Muggle-born wizard who's now grown and in the Ministry.  The family wasn't killed; they just needed to be sent to St. Mungo's.  Luckily, they know about the wizarding world.  Yesterday, we didn't know much about the attack, so I felt sick about it.  Now that I know the family is ok, I'm better.  Still worried, of course, but I'm not going to let myself dwell on it.  I've learned that's best.  Don't dwell on the bad.  It gets you nowhere.

**_9:45 am_**

I put my plan into action at breakfast today.  I made sure I was down there early, helping Mum cook.  She's taken to making things the Muggle way, and she's usually good at it.  But sometimes she forgets she can't just let it sit, that it won't stop cooking by itself, and whatever she's making burns.  

Anyways, when me and Mum were almost done cooking, Ron was just coming downstairs in a scarily drunken-like state.  That boy is frightening in the mornings.  He stumbled into a chair (but not without knocking it over first), and tried to pour some milk into his plate.  (I do think he was aiming for his cup, but who knows?)  I sat down next to him and slipped one of Fred and George's newest treats into his eggs.  It was something to make him more alert.  So, he becomes Mr. Bright and Awake and realizes something's wrong with his breakfast setup.  I believe his exact words were, "Hey, why's the milk on a plate?  And the eggs are in a… what is that anyway?"

But yes.  I was ecstatic.  Phase one was working.  Then Hermione came downstairs, dressed.  (She at least has enough consideration not to come down in her nightclothes, like a certain brother of mine).

Mum started fussing over her, asking if she was ok, what she wanted to eat, the usual Mum-isms.  But Hermione just smiled and poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice.  She was about to sit across the table, but I jumped up from my seat next to Ron and said, "Hermione!  Why don't you sit here instead?  I think the twins rigged that chair."  

Boy, she gave me the biggest death glare in the _world_, but she sat down next to Ron.  I do feel bad for the boy.  He started stuttering and turning white.  He was a general wreck.  Poor boy.  I think this is a sign that, yes, Ron Weasley fancies Hermione Granger.  And vice versa!  Merlin's beard, this is sure to be one interesting summer.

**_1:37 pm_**

I just had a very interesting conversation with Ron.  He was sitting in his room, reading _The Chudley Cannons: From League Heroes to Legendary Laughingstocks._  When I walked in his room, he just glared at me.  I've been getting a lot of those recently.  Once again, I will remind you, diary, that subtlety is _not_ my strong point.  So, I sat down next to Ron and took the book from him.  He doesn't have a strong grip in his left hand, so I just twisted his little finger around.  It's a Muggle fighting tecquice the twins taught me.  It doesn't hurt too much, but enough so that the person will let go.  Then Ron grunted at m,e and I said, "I know where you were last night."  

Ron just stared.  I don't think he believed me at that point.  So he said, "Sure.  Go away, Gin."

"No, really," I said.  "I found out via Hermione."  Whoops.  Bad idea, Ginny gal.  Bad idea.

"SHE TOLD YOU!" Ron yelled.  "I can't _believe_ her!  How could she _do_ that!?"  He turned red and started pacing around the room.  

"No, no, Ron!" I cut in.  "She didn't really _tell_ me.  I er… I was saying something aloud and her diary started talking," I explained.

"She has one of those talking journals?  Like the ones from Diagon Alley?  Cool!"  Ron realized he was supposed to be mad at me, and started ranting again.  "Ginny, I couldn't _believe_ you read her diary!  Those are supposed to be secret!"

Ah.  This is definitely a hypocritical Ron moment.  I should take advantage of it while I can.  "Then how come you stole mine and read it when I was eight?"  Ron glared at me, and I grinned smugly.  It's wonderful when I can get a point across like that.  "And Ron, I didn't read her diary," I said calmly.  "Like I said, I guess I triggered the password."

Ron glared again.  "Ok then, Ginny.  How exactly did you set it off?"  

I had to dig through the brain files for this one.  I filtered through the things I'd said and thought that night and finally remembered.  I'd sworn to help Ron realize his love or something of that sort.  I don't know what set it off exactly, but I have a hunch. "Oh," I said casually, "I just said your name."

**_7:14 pm_**

Well.  I'm sorry I didn't finish that last bit up, but there was an… er… interference?  That treat of the twins' I put in Ron's food this morning backfired.  I thought I would be lucky, because it didn't react for _hours_, but with Gred and Forge, I think you're never safe.

I got hugely told off by Mum.  And poor Ron… the mediwizard at St. Mungo's says the boils will be on his feet for another week.  I feel really bad for him.  I mean, really bad.  I've apologized exactly 28 times and still going strong.  I'm also being a bit of a slave for him.  And no, I don't think that's going overboard.  Ron did have some serious blackmail.  

Yes.  He stole you, diary.  And he read the part about Harry.  And him.  And Hermione.  So, being his servant is the safe way to go if I don't want my inner musings splashed across the front page of the Quibbler.  

Just realized that's another hypocritical Ron moment.  Maybe I should keep tally or something.  Ack, I've got to go get Ron some pumpkin ice cream and a chocolate frog.  This being your older brother's slave isn't fun.


End file.
